


Messy

by wisdomeagle



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, Hate Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-11-04
Updated: 2004-11-04
Packaged: 2018-04-18 11:51:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4705031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wisdomeagle/pseuds/wisdomeagle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During "The House Always Wins," Lilah and Wesley find another place to have (hot, nasty, dripping) hatesex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Messy

"You're sure?"

"He's in Las Vegas. Trust me. You honestly think Angel ever makes a move, _ever_ that we don't see?"

"Wolfram and Hart is Big Brother?"

Lilah wrinkles her nose, half in amusement, half in disdain. "He's out of town. I promise. That's okay with you, right? Perhaps you'd rather he were there?"

"It might be worth a try later on," says Wesley.

Lilah grins at him. "So, do we pick the lock? Scale the building? I've never actually done much breaking and entering. Court-issued warrants are just so much less... messy."

Wesley pushes the back door open. "You don't need to lock the door when your security guard is a superhero."

"So, whose room?" asks Lilah, with a wink. " _Her_ room? You'd like that, wouldn't you? Doing me on her bed... you could almost pretend, couldn't you?"

"It's not that hard to pretend," he says, "unless you open your mouth."

"You want my mouth closed? I'm hurt, Wes. I thought you liked it when I took you in my--"

"Shut up," he says. 

"Her room?" Lilah presses as they go upstairs. "Or do you not want to think about her and her big black lover while you're fucking me? Would that be a turn on for you?" It's not till they get upstairs that she realizes what he's after. "You want to fuck in _his_ bed?" Wesley just opens the door to Angel's room. "God, that's _sick_."

"Coming from you?"

"Hey, I didn't mean it as an insult," she smirks. Wesley is never able to resist that smirk, and he trails a finger across her mouth.

"Come to bed," he says, mimicking lovers' talk.

Angel's bed is big and cold. They're the first warm bodies that have lain in it in months. Lilah bounces a few times, like a little girl staying in a hotel for the first time. Wesley watches her, amused, for a few minutes before getting serious.

"So, what have you always wanted, Wesley? What have you always wanted him to do to you?" She crouches over him, her breasts just skimming his chest, her hair dangling in his face. "Did you ever wonder, just maybe, working so closely with someone for all those years, if one day," she licks his earlobe, " _maybe_ ," and she starts to unbutton his shirt "there might be something more?" Wesley shivers as Lilah slips a cold hand under his shirt, drawing tight circles with her fingers. "That maybe your close friendship might expand into glorious," sucking his nipples in between words, "passionate," allowing him to remove her shirt, to taste her breasts, "love?" Wesley's erection presses into her thighs as she slides back, her tongue drawing a line straight from his heart to his dick.

"Maybe you thought," she says, right before she slips her mouth neatly around his cock, "you were soulmates."

With that he sits up, almost choking her with the sudden movement, grabs her shoulders, pushes _her_ onto _her_ back, shoves her legs apart roughly so Lilah is lying spread-eagled on Angel's bed.

"Aye, there's the rub. Need to prove your manliness after that." He closes her mouth with a kiss, shuts his eyes tightly, lets his tongue wind through her mouth as he tries, with fumbling hands and rough fingers, to get her ready quick enough to take him. She is, unsurprisingly, already dripping wet. He wants to call her slut but his mouth is full. He penetrates her roughly, letting his hands sweep back over the comforter Angel has put on the bed, probably picked out by Cordelia.

He imagines Angel staring at the bed, remembering Cordelia and Connor and remembering whose fault it is that they aren't there. 

He kisses Lilah harder, until he tastes blood, and she gasps in surprise beneath him, her hands grabbing at his back now, fingernails digging into his skin. She'll be drawing blood herself, soon, his blood. Blood that, not two weeks ago, fed Angel.

Usually it's easy to imagine someone else if he needs to, or to fantasize about being fucked without remembering _Angel_ , his friend. Vampires leave behind no scent, no trace, no body heat. They are difficult to track for these reasons. They leave behind them only a trail of destruction.

He frees himself from the kiss, moves his mouth down Lilah's delicate cheekbones to the edge of her neck. He runs his teeth over the skin gently, warning her with a sharp twist of his cock not to say a word. Sometimes he nuzzles, sometimes nips, wondering how much pressure it would take to break Lilah's skin, to accidentally pierce the wrong vein.

He's hardly aware that his rhythm is increasing, that Lilah's legs have twisted around his waist, that she's practically trying to crawl inside of him, until something, perhaps her gasping almost-climax, breaks the hypnotic spell and he groans. She screams. He comes almost immediately, twisting and sweaty.

"He'll be able to smell it, you know," says Lilah, her voice husky. "You, me, all over."

"What did you think we came here for?" he asks.


End file.
